


Bleed, Bitch, Bleed!

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Pearly's Preklok Fics [26]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol, Eating Disorders, Gen, Gore, Graphic and Grody, Morbid, Revenge Fantasy, Self-Harm, Slurs, Underage Drinking, mentions of nearly every trigger imaginable, music references of various fucked up-ness, so idk where to put it, this isn't preklok this is more early dethklok years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Murderface is in a funk tonight.





	Bleed, Bitch, Bleed!

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't for the faint of heart. Not exactly paralleling my issues with homicidal ideation, but somewhat based on them.
> 
> Also if you can find every song reference (which I'll list below) you get a cookie. (Not counting direct mentions to them.)
> 
> (Note: A lot of these songs didn't actually exist in the year that this fic takes place. It's more of a metaphorical writing thing rather than a direct reference in-universe.)

"Williams, we orders DcMonalds, you wants any?"

"I ain't hungry right now!"

The response from down the hall was mush in his ears. Tracy Bonham's  _Burdens of Being Upright_ replaced any other noise. That was acceptable. That was fine. All those years before  _Chloroform Girl_ could be played on the radio. He wished it was 2004 already, though he didn't even know it. He'd already way overplayed  _Closer_ , and considering that he'd been violated, penetrated, desecrated and complicated far too many times in his life, he could go awhile without ever hearing it again.

A bottle of vodka and laxatives.  _Which one will come first?_

His head and hands hung down between his legs. In one hand, a bottle. In the other, a knife. How thin was his skin, he wondered.

_Sometimes I cut myself just to see how much it bleeds. It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me._

Hey, does it feel the same for you? He'd ask, if Magnus was still here, but he's not. That wouldn't make any sense. Not only did he leave, but the fact that he nearly killed Murderface outside of a bar kind of sealed the deal. 

In the morning he'd say he'd get him back. At night, he knew he'd lay in blood and not do any-fucking-thing. 

Stab stab stab.

The blood squirted across the sheets, doing lines on his skin like Bart Simpson at a chalkboard. Only in his shorts, which were perpetually stained with piss, cum and vomit. Laundry wasn't cheap, and he wasn't worth it. He sunk deeper into the blankets, eyes half-lidded. Eyes wide open, eyes wide shut. The Hills Have Eyes. He scraped the sheets across his geyser hands. Had Magnus ever bled, had he ever felt pain, or was he just  _another brick in the wall_ , another puppet that never hurt, because he never stepped left or right of the line that he was built to stand on. Murderface was born nine miles to the left of that line.

His five-hundred pound corpse sunk into the loam below, soft and squishy like spongecake, packed deep into his ears and mouth. 

_Your eyes look like bullet holes. It must be all that crying._

He wanted to make that man bleed, deep down. Even though, most of the time, almost constantly, he felt like it was his fault. Like Magnus was write all along. Like spread legs, sex in gas station bathrooms, bulimia, drugs, statutory, it all  _suited_ him. 

Reckless retardation suited him, yeah.

But sometimes, when he was sober enough, he felt vengeful. Cruel. He wanted to take a knife to that 6-foot monolith and slit his belly, like David and Goliath. He'd rip his skin off, he'd blind him, play in his blood, cannibalize him. Drown him in lye, chew holes in his head, slice his guts and veins until nothing was left. Nothing. NOTHING. He just wanted him to die. He felt unholy. A criminal. Maybe if he wished hard enough, it'd happen. A Dahmer would step in and finish him, and Murderface would see it all in the papers tomorrow, and smirk, and masturbate with the paper around his crotch. Cum all over his headshots.  _Magnus had done him the same._

He'd do him better, in fact, he'd find him and lock him in the car, tie all his limbs together and finally take him out in a forest. Slit his throat and chew on his vocal chords with his crooked little teeth. The ones that never grew in, because when his front teeth were finally grown, they came right back out. Was he given any sympathy? Maybe he'd kill Magnus' side bitch, too, he had like, 5 of them while they were dating. And then he'd kill himself.

_SO IT'S A DOUBLE HOMICIDE AND SUICIDE WITH NO NOTE!_

...Sigh.

He feels like he's melting off the bed, like a clock in  _The Persistence of Memory_ , or a runny egg on the edge of a sidewalk.

He'd chewed holes in his pillows. Began stuffing his penis in them to pretend he'd get any, to pretend he'd have a remote edge of dominance over anything,  _power_ over anything. But what was he, nothing more than a  _teen distortion, survived abortion_. 

Dead. A dead man walking. A zombie.  _Heads up_. 

He shuddered, the blood and burning stomach acid sloshing in his body like a gallon of milk. A knock on his door alerted him. He stayed quiet to the soft requests on the other side of the door. He didn't wanna hear it. Take care of yourself, are you cutting again,  _you can only starve so much 'til you like how it feels!_

Whine.

"Don't wanna."

Whatever they were saying, he didn't want it.

His walls felt like they were curling in on him, and he was tired. He wanted to pop a bullet in Magnus' head, and then his own.  _Outrun my gun this time. Faggot! Maggot! Piece of shit!_ Made him feel better to remember that even the almighty could not argue with lead pummeled through his skull. Christ. Was he out of his head? Was he out of his  _mind?_

This would get him in the ward, if nothing else.

He was delusional. Fuck it. It was summer, but it felt weirdly like an autumn. He'd always say things about how he could end Murderface's life in a second.  _Hey! You're only alive because I like you!_ What a comforting fucking thought. One wrong step and he could've been dead like a fly in an electric trap, wings toasted and melted off, looking like crackling, burning stage lights that broke on the floor, just an inch from the lead actress. And she calls up to the rafters, " _You idiots! I could've been KILLED!_ "

He'd had so many relationships in this life. And only like, two of them were gonna last, if any. At this rate, at least. Especially if every single one constantly felt like being  _fucked with a knife_. He wanted to sleep. 900 years, at the least. But when he closed his eyes he saw him, either staring at him, loving him,  _you get me closer to god_. Or, he'd be fistfuls of long, brown hair in Murderface's calloused hands, as he slit his throat and ran his fucking  _dick_ into the open wound.  _This is how it felt when you did that to me_. He wouldn't reply, though, he'd be too busy spewing out the blood and dying, until the old skin festered around Murderface's bare crotch. And then he'd feel sick. And vomit.

Vomit vomit vomit vomit vomit vomit vomit.

(As if you don't do that enough already, man!)

Chew your meat from you. Pass it back and forth in a balanced kiss, from my mouth to yours.

_I! Like! You!_

He wanted to fucking smother and die. How could somebody say that, about  _anyone_ , no matter how harshly he had been wronged. He wasn't getting hard from it. He wasn't a  _fag_ , he was just a regular teenage boy, of course.

All normal.

All fine.

**Author's Note:**

> [Every song reference I could fit into this thing]
> 
> "Kim" by Eminem - Both in the title, and in a quote. ("... So now it's a double homicide and suicide with no note. ...")  
> "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails - Already has a set-up, so it's pretty easy to find. Also, "you get me closer to god".  
> "Stan" by Eminem - "Sometimes I cut myself ... such a sudden rush for me."  
> "The Hills" by The Weeknd - Not intentional. Moreso supposed to be a reference to the MOVIE "The Hills Have Eyes", but I guess if you use that as the chorus to your sex jam, you deserve a mention for having balls.  
> "Another Brick in the Wall" by Pink Floyd - Very obvious  
> "Chloroform Girl" by Polkadot Cadaver - "Your eyes look like bulletholes, it must be all that crying.", and "You're only alive because I like you."  
> "Abigail's Lullaby" from the Doomstar Requiem - A sneaky sentence that is a perfect synonym for "Pull off our skin, pluck out our eyes, play in our blood, be cannibalized, bathe us in acid, chew through our brains, chop up our guts and cut up our veins."  
> "Disposable Teens" by Marilyn Manson - "Teen distortion, survived abortion"  
> "Dead Girl Walking (Reprise)" from the Heathers musical - A play on "Heads up, (JD,) I'm a dead girl (man) walking."  
> "Please Eat" by Nicole Dollanganger - "'cause I know you can only starve so much 'til you like how it feels."  
> "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People - "(Better run, better run,) outrun my gun"  
> "Out of my Head" by Fastball - "Was I out of my head? Was I out of my mind?"  
> "Weird Autumn" from Night in the Woods - Moreso a play on the title.  
> "MMMBop" by Hanson - "You have so many relationships in this life, only one or two will last."  
> "Fucked with a Knife" by Cannibal Corpse - Title drop. Could also be considered a lyrical reference to Nicole Dollanganger's "Flowers of Flesh and Blood".  
> "Drain You" by Nirvana - The whole chorus.


End file.
